as deep as the sky under my skin
by asteroidbuckle
Summary: Wherein Finn and Rachel have sex for the first time and Finn kinda acts like a jerk afterwards.


**Title:** as deep as the sky under my skin  
**Author:** GatorGrrrl  
**Fandom:** Glee  
**Pairing:** Finn/Rachel  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Word Count:** 2,600  
**Disclaimer:** I do not own these characters. No profit being made, no offense intended.  
**Spoilers:** None, really.  
**Warnings:** little bit of angst, little bit of schmoop, first time

**Summary:** Wherein Finn and Rachel have sex for the first time and Finn kinda acts like a jerk afterwards.

**A/N:** Written for **winterweathered** for her birthday. Happy birthday, Cam!

Title taken from the song "First Time" by Lifehouse.

**as deep as the sky under my skin**

How Finn ends up inside Rachel's bedroom is simple: She invites him over so they can choose a new ballad for regionals. Mr. Schue wants a duet this time and since Rachel and Finn are the two leads, he wants them to pick the song. Makes sense.

How Finn ends up inside Rachel, well. That's not so simple. One minute, they're singing some sappy love song and he's looking into her eyes and his harmony falters a little. The next minute, she's pressing a condom into his hand and telling him it's okay, Finn. I want to.

So they do. And it's over so fast he barely has time to process it. The next thing he knows, he's walking through his own front door and he's not quite sure how he got there.

"You're back early," his mom says as he walks past the living room on his way to the stairs.

He stops. Turns to look at her and blinks. He can see her looking at him, can see the way her smile is slowly replaced by a wrinkle of concern across her forehead when he doesn't say anything.

"Are you okay?" she asks him. The sound is out of sync, a half second behind the movement of her lips.

Is he okay? He's not sure. What he needs to do is lock himself in his bedroom and think about it. He shoves his hands deep into his jeans pockets and nods. "Y-Yeah, Mom. I'm fine."

"Did you and Rachel find a song?"

Rachel. The name makes him flinch a little. He hopes his mom didn't notice. "Not yet," he says. "We, uh, we're still deciding." He wants to escape. He wants to take a shower. But really, what he wants the most is to hide. But he can't seem to move.

His mom smiles again. "I'm sure whatever you pick will be perfect. You two sound great together."

_"I want it to be you, Finn."_

"Mom, I—" he tries, but she doesn't hear him. She's standing now, coming towards him.

"Are you hungry?" she asks him, touching his shoulder. "I wasn't expecting you for dinner, but I can make you something."

"Um," he says. "N-No. That's okay. I'm not really hungry."

She narrows her eyes a little as she looks at him and he can see she wants to say something he's not sure he wants to hear. But all she says is, "Alright, honey." She squeezes his shoulder. "I'll be in the laundry room if you need me." Then she starts to walk away.

"We did it, Mom." The words are out of his mouth before he can stop them and for a moment he's horrified, breath frozen in his chest and eyes squeezed shut as if that could erase the words.

There's a moment of silence and Finn almost thinks she didn't hear him, but then his mom's voice sounds behind him. "Did what?"

When he turns to look at her, she's got this funny little expectant look on her face that hurts a little to look at.

Never mind, he wants to say. It's nothing. It's stupid. It doesn't matter.

But he says, "Me and Rachel." The words are thick on his tongue. They seem to stick behind his teeth. "We, um. We had, uh…" He feels his face get hot and watches realization slowly dawn on his mom's face.

"Oh." She reaches out to him, but drops her hand before she touches him. "Oh." There's a pause. "Did…did you…?" She can't seem to say it, but Finn knows what she's trying to ask. It wasn't that long ago when his mom thought she was going to be a grandmother before she turned 40.

But he doesn't want to talk about condoms right now. He doesn't really want to talk about any of it, but now that it's out in the open, there's one thing about it that he can't forget.

"She cried, Mom," he whispers.

*&*&*&*&*&*

She doesn't move. She's not sure how long she's been lying there, but the blade of sunlight across her carpet has retreated to somewhere behind her and the hall light is now on, illuminating the silhouette of first one dad's feet, then the other's as they knock softly on her door. She ignores them. Lets them think she's asleep.

When she finally gets up, it's only because she has to pee so badly it hurts. The bright bathroom light hurts her eyes and she stumbles a little, stubbing her toe on the corner of the cabinet on her way to the toilet.

There's blood on the tissue after she wipes. Just a little bit. Barely a smudge. She's sore, too. And she knows why: It hurt. More than she expected it to.

Before, when she thought about it, about what it would be like, she allowed herself to believe it would be like in those stupid books she keeps hidden in a box under her bed. A little awkward, maybe. Lots of fumbling and blushing and nervous laughter and silly little promises whispered in the heat of the moment. But it would be sweet, too, after. Cuddling and kissing and shared smiles and hearts and rainbows and music.

But she was wrong. It wasn't like that at all. And she feels stupid for ever thinking it would be. Stupid and embarrassed and angry. Angry at herself for crying afterwards. Angry at Finn for leaving. Angry because thirty years from now when she looks back on this, she won't be able to say it was the first best day of her life.

_"Oh, god. Rachel. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I…"_

Finn couldn't seem to leave fast enough. He was in his clothes before Rachel even caught her breath and then he couldn't even look at her. He barely said a word to her before he left, leaving her to stare at the back of her bedroom door as he escaped.

She really wanted him to stay. He wouldn't have had to hold her or anything. He could've just sat there on the end of her bed and talked to her. Or maybe not even that. He could've just _been_ there with her, feeling as awkward inside his own skin as she felt inside hers. They could've felt awkward together.

But he didn't stay. And she kept crying. But not for the same reason as before.

*&*&*&*&*&*

His mom had "The Talk" with him after he turned thirteen and started taking really long showers. She told him about how a man's penis and a woman's vagina are like puzzle pieces and when two people really love each other, sometimes all they want to do is fit those pieces together.

Finn loves his mom, but he really wishes he had a dad sometimes. Someone who'd show him _Playboy_ centerfolds and tell him that love isn't the only thing that makes two people want to fit their puzzle pieces together.

This is one of those times. Because right now he wants more than anything to crawl under his blankets – maybe even under his bed – and disappear instead of sitting here listening to his mom talk about her first time. With his dad. In the den of her parents' house when she was seventeen.

God.

"It was very emotional for me. I was scared and relieved and happy all at the same time," she says. Her hand is on his knee and he knows it's supposed to be reassuring or something, but he really doesn't want to be touched right now. So he shifts on the sofa until her hand falls away and pretends he doesn't see the hurt look in her eyes. "Honey, for girls—"

"Mom," he interrupts. "I really appreciate you wanting to talk and everything, but I—"

"Finn. Sweetie." She scoots closer again until their knees are almost touching, but thankfully doesn't touch him. "Listen to me."

That's what he's _been_ doing, isn't it? Mom. Dad. Doing it on the couch in grandpa's den a million years ago. See? Listening.

"Really, Mom." He stands. His knees feel shaky and his palms are sweaty. He never should have said anything, but he's never been able to keep anything from his mom. She's like a walking lie detector. "It's okay. I'm okay. It's no big deal. Really."

He tries to walk past her, but she grabs his wrist. "Finn, stop."

He does. Not like he has a choice, anyway. She's kinda holding him in place.

"Look at me."

When he does, she's looking right at him and he gets the feeling she's about to say something really, really Mom-ish. "It's always a big deal, honey. _Always_."

He swallows and nods. "Sure, Mom. Okay. I know."

She holds him in place for a few more seconds, then finally lets him go.

He almost runs for the stairs and takes them three at time.

*&*&*&*&*&*

She doesn't look any different. Her hair's messed up and her eyes are a little red, but other than that, she looks the same. She isn't sure what she was expecting. Maybe the word VIRGIN with a line through it floating over her head in flashing red neon, like one of those NO SMOKING signs they put in elevators. But there's nothing there. Just her.

*&*&*&*&*&*

He doesn't look any different. His hair's messed up and his lips are a little chapped from all the kissing they did before it happened. But other than that, he looks the same. He isn't sure what he was expecting. Maybe to look more like a man and less like a kid. A mustache, maybe. Or gray at his temples. Something. But there's nothing like that. Just him.

*&*&*&*&*&*

Afterwards, she didn't cry because it hurt. Or because she regretted it. She cried because she couldn't believe it finally happened. That she'd finally gotten everything she wanted from the boy she liked the most after nearly resigning herself to the fact that he'd never like her back the same way. And maybe it wasn't perfect, but it was hers. It was _theirs_.

But as it turned out, it was only hers after all. Apparently, he didn't want it.

*&*&*&*&*&*

Finn has been a walking ball of insecurity since he hit puberty. It took nearly six months before his voice stopped cracking, a year before the rest of his body caught up to his arms and legs. He started playing sports so the other kids would stop picking on him just because he liked to sing. He's never had a clear vision of his future beyond getting out of Lima. He doesn't have any goals besides competing at regionals. And making things right with Rachel.

Rachel, who probably hates him right now. Not that he can blame her.

Who's probably the most annoying person he's ever met. And he grew up with Puck.

Who's always known what she wants. And who, for some reason, wants _him_. Or did, at least, up until a few hours ago.

Who'd helped him put the condom on when his hands had been shaking too badly to manage it on his own.

Who'd kissed him and smiled at him and said, "I want it to be you, Finn." And she hadn't laughed at him when it took him two tries to push inside her.

Lying here, staring at the ceiling, he remembers the rest.

*&*&*&*&*&*

"Rachel? Honey?"

Her dad's voice carries that edge of sympathy it always does when she's sick. She appreciates it, really, but right now, it kind of grates. It reminds her of the way her dads treated her like glass the first time she got her period. Like she was something fragile and special. She hates it.

"Dad, I'm tired, okay?" she says wearily. She's in her pajamas even though it's barely eight o'clock. She tries to smile at her dad, but doesn't think she manages it. In the corner behind the door are the sheets she stripped off her bed after getting out of the shower. She's not sure yet if she'll wash them or stuff them in the trash can when her dads aren't looking.

"I know, sweetheart, but there's someone here to see you. That boy from glee club. Finn."

Her fingers close in the sheets beneath her blanket.

*&*&*&*&*&*

Finn doesn't like the way Rachel's dad is looking at him – like he's already got a grave dug out back and is just waiting for an opportunity to use it. So when Rachel walks in with her other dad in tow, he can't help but let out an audible breath.

There's a moment of awkward silence and then one of Rachel's dads – the less homicidal one – says, "Rachel, your dad and I will be in the kitchen if you need us." He brushes her hair back from her shoulder and has to almost drag the other man from the room.

Finn looks at Rachel. Her face looks scrubbed, no makeup. Her eyes are dark and unblinking. Her lips are pressed into a thin line beneath her nose where usually there's at least a hint of smile.

She looks pretty, he thinks. Sad, but pretty.

"Rachel." It's all he can manage. He wants her to say something. To rescue him from himself like she always does. She usually speaks three words for every one of his and now she's just standing there, forcing him to fill his own silence.

So he tries. "I'm sorry," he says. The second the words leave his mouth, he knows they're the wrong ones. She actually flinches a little when he says them.

"I-I mean…I didn't mean that." He can feel himself getting flustered, can feel his tongue start to twist into a knot inside his mouth. He can't do this. Talking. He's not good at it. "I mean…" He pushes out a frustrated breath and runs a hand through his hair.

Sinking down onto the sofa, he rests his head in his hands and stares down at his feet. It's easier if he doesn't have to look at her. "I shouldn't have left like that. I was a jerk. It's just…when I saw you crying, I…I freaked out. I thought…I thought I'd hurt you or something. I thought, you know…that I'd ruined it for you." He runs his hands back and forth over the back of his head and takes another breath. In his peripheral vision, he can see her slippers. Yellow ducks. He almost smiles.

After a moment the ducks move and a couple seconds later, the cushion sinks next to him. There are a few inches between them, but she's close enough that he can feel her body heat. It's more than he hoped for when he knocked on the door.

"You didn't ruin it," Rachel says softly.

The words force him to look up. When he does, he sees her looking back at him, fingers twisting in the tie of her robe. "I'm sorry for leaving," he tells her. "But not for the rest."

He watches Rachel's mouth curl up slightly at the corners and smiles at the blush creeping slowly up her neck. He doesn't remember ever seeing her blush before. He'd press his lips to it if he didn't think her dad would bury him in the backyard if they got caught.

Rachel untwists her fingers from her robe and touches his arm. "I really wanted you to stay," she says.

Finn likes the feel of her fingers on his skin. A warmth spreads through him as he slides his hand over hers. Leaning in a little, he whispers with a smile, "Next time I will."

When she smiles and bites her lip, he can't help but kiss her. Her dads are just in the next room, but he's willing to risk it.

The End


End file.
